


Blankets

by Silverwings87



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, No beta we die like Justinia, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, in this house we stan giant warrior women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverwings87/pseuds/Silverwings87
Summary: Josephine Montilyet doesn’t see the point of sleeping anywhere other than her desk....until she (accidentally) steals the Inquisitor’s blanket, that is.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Josephine Montilyet
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	Blankets

**Author's Note:**

> Three cheers for showing up six years late to a fandom with Starbucks and no fucks. This whole story is basically self-indulgent fluff. Josephine, if you’re out there, marry me. Enjoy!

Josephine Montilyet detested beds. They were often too hard or too soft, too lumpy or the feathers stuffed inside the mattress scratched her skin. So she slept at her desk. It was simply more efficient to fall asleep atop a pile of paperwork, the night’s fourth glass of wine half-empty and sparkling in the light of her dying fire. Leliana would often chastise her for this habit, calling it “unhealthy” and “the product of overwork.” Josephine merely shook her head at these accusations- she had much to do, and not enough time to do it. Besides, Leliana was just as guilty of getting lost in her work. Josephine did not need the trappings of bedrooms and blankets. 

It was a candlemark past noon when Inquisitor Adaar returned to Skyhold, spattered with blood and sporting a new pale scar across the bridge of her nose. Her latest campaign to the Emerald Graves had kept her away for several weeks, and she wanted nothing more than to fall in a heap anywhere soft. Unfortunately, there were castle affairs to attend to- a horse had escaped the stables and was bucking and screaming in the courtyard. The Inquisitor resisted the urge to stab the feral beast, and dragged it back to its stall. Then, she was suckered into a round of drinks with Iron Bull. Much to the other Qunari’s disapproval, Inquisitor Adaar settled for a mild mulled cider, and was only slightly tipsy by the time the Chargers and Iron Bull started singing terrible sea shanties about “The Vacuous Vixens from Val Royeux.” Weary from the road, Adaar trudged through the Main Hall, sparing a wave for Varric as she passed. Reaching her quarters, she threw open the door and was surprised to see Lady Montilyet’s office instead of the warm refuge of her room. She had taken a wrong turn, but no harm was done. Adaar smiled. Josephine was neck-deep in a pile of paperwork, no doubt inflicted by the insufferable diplomats from Orlais and Tevinter. Her quill scratched across the parchment with inhuman speed, fast enough to convince a layperson that Lady Montilyet was Andraste’s chosen instead. The sight vanquished Adaar’s exhaustion. The Qunari sauntered over to the ambassador’s desk, taking a seat on the precious little of the desk not consumed with paperwork. Josephine spoke without raising her head from the document she was currently signing.

“Yes, Leliana, I will rest shortly. Please stop trying to convince me to stop now.”

Adaar smiled at the lady in front of her. “It’s not Leliana, Lady Montilyet.”

Josephine’s head shot up, somehow remaining elegant despite her surprise. “Inquisitor Adaar! You’re back from the Graves. I trust all is well in the South?”

Adaar fiddled with her horns. “As well as things can be. We’ve secured the aid of Fairbanks, and I’ve closed a few more rifts. I also found a tin of that Tevinter moustache wax that Dorian likes- I’ll have to give it to him sometime.” 

Josephine’s eyes lit up at the mention of a new ally, and Adaar swore that look could clear the clouds from the sky above the Storm Coast. Josephine spoke fervently. “Excellent news, Inquisitor. I’ll send a letter to Fairbanks immediately.” Her expression fell. “After I finish balancing the Montilyet family finances. And the correspondence with the Council of Heralds. And…Oh, I so miss having someone to talk about work with. But I’m probably boring you. My apologies, Inquisitor.” Josephine returned to scratching away at her document. Adaar reached down and laid a hand over Josephine’s quill hand.

“You do not bore me, Lady Montilyet. I would be more than willing to listen to your diplomacy woes.”

Josephine smiled up at the tall Inquisitor. “Let us go, then.”

The two retired to the Inquisitor’s balcony. A chill wind blew from the north, hints of snow blowing in from the peaks of the nearby Frostbacks. After Adaar washed the viitar from her face, the two stood near the railing and Josephine ranted about various nobles and tradesmen, and how she wished to find her old family crest. Adaar filed that request away for later. Neither noticed the turning of the sun or the lengthening of shadows. At some point, the two found themselves seated against the cold stone wall, a heavy blanket of Great Bear skin draped across their legs. This was the first time either had been so close to the other in a casual setting, but it felt like this was where they had always been meant to sit. Inquisitor Adaar had started into an anecdote about a fight with a giant spider when Josephine began to drift. 

“....and then, Iron Bull slammed it off a cliff with his axe! Cassandra looked a mite jealous, I believe...Josephine?” 

The ambassador murmured sleepily, and looked up at the Inquisitor with half-lidded eyes. “Yes, Inquisitor?”

Adaar brushed a strand of hair away from Josephine’s eyes. “If you’re tired, you should retire to your quarters. It seems time has escaped us.”

Josephine shook her head. “No, no. Continue your story. I’m just resting my eyes.”

It hadn’t been five minutes when the soft weight of Lady Montilyet’s head fell on Adaar’s shoulder. The Qunari’s heart stopped at the motion, fearful that even the flutter of a heartbeat would disrupt the sleeping woman. For nearly half a candlemark, the Inquisitor dared not move. Finally, the sun sank behind the mountains, and Adaar, convinced that the ambassador would not wake, scooped the slight woman up, blankets and all. The warrior tip-toed down the steps, taking extreme measures to muffle her heavy step. Unfortunately, she had to traverse the main hall, and Varric had decided that tonight was a good time to drink alone by the fire. 

The dwarf had the gall to waggle his eyebrows. “Bedding the ambassador, huh? A bold move. I’m definitely adding this one to my next book.”

If Adaar’s arms weren’t otherwise occupied with a sleeping ambassador, she would have put her falchion through his heart. Instead, she settled for a nasty glare, and left a chuckling Varric alone with his cups. 

The next morning, Josephine awoke feeling particularly warm and well-rested. Also, everything smelled like sweat and leather and armor polish (like Inquisitor Adaar- she quickly banished that thought.) Josephine was also startled to find that her head was resting on a pillow, instead of the cold wood of her desk. The sun glanced through her window, and revealed her chamber, and the same heavy grey blanket that the Inquisitor and her had shared during their conversation on the balcony the previous night. A million possibilities flooded through her mind, and a dark blush flushed up her neck. That noble fool of a Qunari had carried her halfway across Skyhold. Had anyone seen? Josephine leapt out of bed and furiously set about preparing for the day- a dress, hair, light makeup, making her bed. Oh. The bed. More specifically, the blanket. A fierce internal debate raged in the mind of the eldest Montilyet. Returning the blanket would be an awkward affair, and if she wanted to save face with the Inquisitor she would have to resort to subterfuge. Perhaps she could ask Leliana to sneak the blanket back into the Inquisitor’s quarters. No, Leliana would have a million questions, and would no doubt question Adaar’s intentions (possibly to her face)! Maybe Josephine could return it when the Inquisitor was away, but no, she had no time, and Adaar was probably staying in Skyhold for several days. In the end, the ambassador settled for tucking the blanket into a chest at the foot of her bed, and leaving the room. Out of sight, out of mind. Mostly.

Inquisitor Adaar stayed in Skyhold for a week. Over those seven days, meeting Adaar on her balcony to chat about the day’s events and world news became something of a routine. Throughout, Josephine detected not a hint of romantic intent from the warrior. However, she allowed herself the small indulgence of leaning her head on the Qunari’s shoulder. The warrior never seemed to mind. And every night, Adaar insisted upon escorting Josephine to her room. As a result, the ambassador found herself sleeping in a bed more often than at her desk. And after the Inquisitor bid her goodnight, Josephine would open the trunk at the foot of her bed and retrieve the heavy grey blanket. 

When Inquisitor Adaar left for the Exalted Plains (“I’m off to slay a dragon!”) Josephine nearly resumed her pattern of sleeping at her desk. At a half candlemark past ten, she was dozing fitfully atop a stack of unmarked parchment, shadowy images of wax seals and signatures floating in her vision. After fifteen minutes of unsuccessful rest, Josephine gave in and returned to her room, and retrieved the blanket. Within moments she was asleep, not paying any mind to the shadow of Varric at her door. 

Four days after the Inquisitor left, a parcel arrived on Josephine’s desk. Inside was a soft blanket of halla hide. An attached note read:

Dear Lady Montilyet,

Varric said you liked my bear hide blanket, but I figured you’d like something a bit more refined, so I had this specially made for you. Sleep well!

Love,  
Inquisitor Adaar

That clueless, lovely, idiotic brute. Josephine Montilyet was doomed.


End file.
